frank, reached me when in their presence, and we all read it together, and were dreadfully disturbed at its contents." After a faint show of reluctance to trespass on the ladies so suddenly, and at so late an hour, Mr Gammon slipped off his great-coat, and, with secret but suppressed feel ings of exultation at the success of his scheme, followed Mr Aubrey up stairs. He felt not a little fluttered on entering the room and catching a first glimpse of the two lovely women-and one of them Miss Aubrey-sitting in it, their faces turned with eager interest and anxiety towards the door as he made his appearance. He observed that both of them started, and turned excessively pale.

"Let me introduce to you," said Mr Aubrey, quickly, and with a bright assuring smile, " a gentleman who has kindly called to relieve us all from great anxiety-Mr Gammon : Mr Gammon, Mrs Aubrey-Miss Aubrey." He bowed with an air of deep deference, but easy self-possession; his soul thrilling within him at the sight of her whose image had never been from before his eyes since they had first seen her.

"I shall trespass on you for only a few minutes, ladies," said he, approaching the chair towards which he was motioned. "I could not resist the opportunity so politely afforded me by Mr Aubrey of paying my compliments here, and personally assuring you of my utter abhorrence of the mercenary and oppressive conduct of a gentleman with whom, alas! I am closely connected in business, and whose letter to you of this evening I only casually became acquainted with a few moments before starting off hither. Forget it ladies; I pledge my honour that it shall never be acted on!" This he said with a fervour of manner that could not but make an impression on those whom he addressed.

"I'm sure we're happy to see you, Mr Gammon, and very much obliged to you, indeed," said Mrs Aubrey, with a sweet smile, and a face from which alarm was vanishing fast. Miss Aubrey said nothing: her brilliant eyes glanced with piercing anxiety, now at her brother, then at his companion. Gammon felt that he was distrusted. Nothing could be more prepossessing-more bland and insi

nuating, without a trace of fulsomeness, than Mr Gammon's manner and address, as he took his seat between Mrs Aubrey and Miss Aubrey, whose paleness rather suddenly gave way to a vivid and beautiful flush; and her eyes presently sparkled with delighted surprise on perceiving the relieved air of her brother, and the apparent cordiality and sincerity of Mr Gammon. When she reflected, moreover, on her expressions of harshness and severity concerning him that very evening, and of which he now appeared so undeserving, it threw into her manner towards him a sort of delicate and charming embarrassment. Her ear drank in eagerly every word he uttered-so pointed, so significant, so full of earnest good-will towards her brother. His manner was that of a gentleman, his countenance and conversation that of a man of intellect; -was this the keen and cruel pettifoger whom she had learned at once to dread and to despise? They and he were, in a word, completely at their ease with one another, within a few minutes after he had taken his seat at the tea-table. Miss Aubrey's beauty shone that evening with even unwonted lustre, and appeared as if it had not been in the least impaired by the anguish of mind which she had so long suffered. 'Tis quite impossible for me to do justice to the expression of her full beaming blue eyes-an expression of mingled passion and intellect-of blended softness and spirit, that, especially in conjunction with the rich tones of her voice, shed something like madness into the breast of Gammon. She, as well as her lovely sister-in-law, was dressed in mourning, which infinitely set off her daz zling complexion, and, simple and elegant in its drapery, displayed her exquisite proportions to the greatest possible advantage. "Oh, my God!" thought Gammon, with a momentary thrill of disgust and horror; " and this is the transcendant creature of whom that little miscreant, Titmouse, spoke to me in terms of such presumptuous and revolting li cense!" What would he not have given to kiss the fair and delicate white hand that passed to him his tea-cup! Then Gammon's thoughts turned for a moment inward-why, what a scoun drel was he! At that instant he was, as it were, reeking with his recent lie.

He was there on cruel, false pretences, which alone had secured him access into that little drawing-room, and brought him into contiguity with the dazzling beauty beside him-pure and innocent as beautiful ;-he was a fiend beside an angel. What an execrable hypocrite was he! He caught, on that memorable occasion, a sudden glimpse even of his own infernal SELFISHNESS-a sight that gave him a cold shudder. Then, was he not in the presence of his victims ?-of those whom he was fast pressing on to the verge of destruction-to whom he was, at that moment, meditating profound and subtle schemes of mischief! At length they all got into animated conversation. He was infinitely struck and charmed by the unaffected simplicity and frankness of their manners, yet he felt a sad and painful consciousness of not having made the least way with them; though physically near to them, he seemed yet really at an unapproachable distance from them, and particularly from Miss Aubrey. He felt that the courtesy bestowed upon him was accidental, the result merely of his present position, and of the intelligence which he had come to communicate; it was not personal-'twas nothing to Gammon himself; it would never be renewed, unless he should renew his device. There was not the faintest semblance of sympathy between them and him. Fallen as they were into a lower sphere, they had yet about them, so to speak, a certain atmosphere of conscious personal consequence, derived from high birth and breeding-from superior feelings and associations from a native frankness and dignity of character, which was indestructible and inalienable, which chilled and checked undue advances of any sort. They were still the Aubreys of Yatton, and he, in their presence, still Mr Gammon of the firm of Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, of Saffron Hill-and all this on the part of the Aubreys without the least effort, the least intention, or consciousness. No, there had not been exhibited towards him the faintest indication of hauteur. On the contrary, he had been treated with perfect cordiality and frankness. Yet, dissatisfaction and vexation were, he scarce knew at the moment why, completely flooding him. Had he accurately analysed his own feelings, he would have discovered the real cause

to have been-his own unreasonable, unjustifiable wishes and intentions. They talked of Titmouse, and his mode of life and conduct-of his expected alliance with the Lady Cecilia, at the mention of which Gammon's quick eye detected a passing smile of scorn on Miss Aubrey's countenance, that was death to all his own fond and ambitious hopes. After he had been sitting with them for scarcely an hour, he detected Miss Aubrey stealthily glancing at her watch, and at once arose to take his departure, with a very easy and graceful air, expressing an apprehension that he had trespassed upon their kindness. He was cordially assured to the contrary, but invited, neither to prolong his stay, nor renew his visit. Miss Aubrey made him, he thought, as he inclined towards her, rather a formal curtsy; and the tone of voice-soft and silvery-in which she said "good-night, Mr Gammon," fell on his eager ear, and sunk into his vexed heart, like music. On quitting the house, a deep sigh of disappointment escaped him. As he gazed for a moment with longing eyes at the windows of the room in which Miss Aubrey was sitting, he felt profound depression of spirit; he had altogether failed; and he had a sort of cursed consciousness that he deserved to fail, on every account. Her image was before his mind's eye every moment while he was threading his way back to his chambers at Thavies' Inn; he sat for an hour or two before the remnant of his fire, lost in a reverie; and sleep came not to his eyes till a late hour in the morning. Just as his tortuous mind was loosing hold of its sinister purposes in sleep, Mr Aubrey might have been seen taking his seat in his little study, having spent a restless night. 'Twas little more than half-past four o'clock when he entered, candle in hand, the scene of his early and cheerful labours, and took his seat before his table covered with loose manucripts and books. His face was certainly overcast with anxiety, but his soul was calm and resolute. Having lit his fire, he placed his candle on the table, and leaning back for a moment in his chair, while the flickering increasing light of his crackling fire and candle, revealed to him, with a sense of snugness, his shelves crammed with books, and the window covered with

an ample crimson curtain, effectually excluding the chill morning air-he reflected with a heavy sigh upon the precarious tenure by which he held the little comforts that were yet left to him. Oh!-thought he-if Heaven were but to relieve me from the frightful pressure of liability under which I am bound to the earth, what labour, what privation would I repine at! What gladness would not spring up in my heart! But rousing himself from vain thoughts of this kind, he began to arrange his manuscripts, when his ear caught a sound on the stair-'twas the light step of his sister, coming down to perform her promised undertaking -not an unusual one by any means-to transcribe for the press the manuscript he was about completing that morning. My sweet Kate," said he tenderly, as she entered with her little chamber light, which she extinguished as she entered" I am really grieved to see you stirring so early-go back to bed." But she kissed his cheek affectionately, and refused to do any such thing; and telling him of the restless night she had passed, of which indeed her pale and depressed features bore but too legible evidence, she sate herself down in her accustomed place, nearly opposite to him, cleared away space enough for her little desk, and then opening it, was presently engaged in her delightful task-for to her it was indeed delightful-of copying out her brother's composition. Thus she sat, silent and industrious scarce opening her lips, except to ask him to explain an illegible word or so, till the hour had arrived-eight o'clock

for the close of their morning toil. The reader will be pleased to hear that the article on which they had been engaged and which was on a question of foreign politics, of great difficulty and importance-produced him a cheque for sixty guineas, and excited very general attention and admiration. Oh, how precious was this reward of his honourable and severe toil! How it cheered him who had earned it, and those who were, alas! entirely dependent upon his noble exertions! And how sensibly it augmented their little means! Grateful, indeed, were all of them for the success which had attended his labours!

As I do not intend to occupy the reader with any details relating to Mr Aubrey's Temple avocations, I shall

content myself with saying that the more Mr Weasel and Mr Aubrey came to know of each other, the more Aubrey respected his legal knowledge and ability, and he, Aubrey's intellectual energy and successful application, which, indeed, consciously brought home to Aubrey its own reward, in the daily acquisition of solid learning, and increasing facility in the use of it. His mind was formed for things, and was not apt to occupy itself with mere words, or technicalities. He was ever in quest of the principles of law, its reason, and spirit. He quickly began to appreciate the sound practical good sense on which almost all the rules of law are founded, and the effectual manner in which they are accommodated to the innumerable and evervarying exigencies of human affairs. The mere forms and technicalities of the law, Mr Aubrey often compared to short-hand, whose characters to the uninitiated appear quaint and useless, but are perfectly invaluable to him who has seen the object, and patiently acquired the use of them. Whatever Mr Aubrey's hand found to do, while studying the law, he did it, indeed, with his might—which is the grand secret of the difference in the success of different persons addressing themselves to legal studies. Great or small, easy or difficult, simple or complicated, interesting or uninteresting, he made a point of mastering it thoroughly, and, as far as possible, by his own efforts; which generated early a habit of selfreliance which no one better than he knew the value of-how inestimable, how indispensable, not to the lawyer merely, but to any one entrusted with the responsible management of affairs. In short, he had all the success which is sure to attend the exertions of a man of superior sense and spirit, who is in earnest in what he is about. He frequently surprised Mr Weasel with the exactness and extent of his legal information-his acuteness, clear-headedness, and tenacity in dealing with matters of downright difficulty-and Mr Weasel had several times, in consultation, an opportunity of expressing his very flattering opinion concerning Mr Aubrey to the Attorney-General. The mention of that eminent person reminds me of an observation which I intended to have made some time ago. The reader is not to imagine, from my silence upon

the subject, that Mr Aubrey, in his fallen fortunes, was heartlessly forgotten or neglected by the distinguished friends and associates of former and more prosperous days. It was not they that withdrew from him, but he that withdrew from them; and that, too, of set purpose, resolutely adhered to, on the ground that it could not be otherwise, without seriously interfering with the due prosecution of those plans of life on which were dependent not only his all, and that of those connected with him-but his fond hopes of yet extricating himself, by his own personal exertions, from the direful difficulties and dangers which at present environed him—of achieving, with his own right hand, independence. The Attorney-General frequently called to enquire how he was getting on; and, let me not forget here to state a fact which I conceive infinitely to redound to poor Aubrey's honour-viz. that he thrice refused offers made him from very high quarters, of considerable sinecures, i. e. handsome salaries for purely nominal services which he was earnestly and repeatedly reminded would at once afford him a liberal maintenance, and leave the whole of his time at his own disposal, to follow any pursuit or profession which he chose. Mr Aubrey justly considered that it was very difficult, if not indeed impossible, for any honourable and high-minded man to be a sinecurist. He that holds a sinecure, in my opinion, is plundering the public; and how it is less contrary to the dictates of honour and justice, deliberately to defraud an individual, than deliberately and openly to defraud that collection of individuals called the public, let casuists determine. As for Mr Aubrey, he saw stretching before him the clear, straight, bright line of honour, and he resolved to follow it, without faltering or wavering, come what come might. He resolved, with the blessing of Providence, that his own exertions should procure his bread, and, if such was the will of Heaven, lead him to distinction among mankind. He had formed this determination, and resolved to work it out-never to pause or give way, but to die in the struggle. Such a spirit must conquer, whatever is opposed to it. What is difficulty? Only a word indicating the degree of strength requisite for

accomplishing particular objects; a mere notice of the necessity for exertion; a bugbear to children and fools; only a mere stimulus to men.

Mr Gammon felt very little difficulty in putting off Mr Quirk from his purpose of enforcing the payment by Mr Aubrey of the balance of his account; in demonstrating to him the policy of waiting a little longer. He pledged himself, when the proper time came, to adopt measures of undoubted efficacy, assuring his sullen senior in a low tone, that since his letter had reached Mr Aubrey, circumstances had occurred which would render it in the last degree dangerous to press that gentleman upon the subject. What that was which had happened, Mr Gammon, as usual, refused to state. This was a considerable source of vexation to the old gentleman: but he had a far greater one, in the decisive and final overthrow of his fondly cherished hopes concerning his daughter's alliance with Titmouse. The paragraph in the "Aurora,” announcing Mr Titmouse's engagement to his brilliant relative, the Lady Cecilia, had emanated from the pen of Mr Gammon, who had had several objects in view in giving early publicity to the event he announced in such courtly terms. Happening on the morning on which it appeared, to be glancing over the fascinating columns of the Aurora, at a public office, (the paper taken in at their own establishment being the Morning Growl,) he made a point of purchasing that day's Aurora; and on returning to Saffron Hill, he enquired whether Mr Quirk were at home. Hearing that he was sitting alone, in his room,-in rushed Mr Gammon, breathless with surprise and haste, and plucking the paper out of his pocket," By heavens, Mr Quirk!" he almost gasped as he doubled down the paper to the place where stood the announcement in question, and put it into Mr Quirk's hands," this young fellow's given you the slip, after all! See!-The moment that my back is turned,"

Mr Quirk having with a little trepidation adjusted his spectacles, perused the paragraph with a somewhat flushed face. He had, in fact, for some time had grievous misgivings on the subject of his chance of becoming the father-in-law of his distinguished client, Mr Titmouse; but now his

faintest gliomering of hope was suddenly and completely extinguished, and the old gentleman felt quite desolate. He looked up, on finishing the paragraph, and gazed rather ruefully at his indignant and sympathizing companion.

"It seems all up, Gammon, certainly-don't it?" said he, with a flustered air.

"Indeed, my dear sir, it does! You have my sincerest"

"Now, come, t'other end of the thing, Gammon! You know every promise of marriage has two endsone joins the heart, and t'other the pocket; out heart, in pocket-so have at him, by Jove!" He rose up and rubbed his hands as he stood before the fire." Breach of promise-thundering damages-devilish deep purse -special jury-broken heart, and all that! I wish he'd written her more letters! Adad, I'll have a shot at him by next assizes—a writ on the file this very day! What d'ye think on't, friend Gammon, between ourselves?"

"Why, my dear sir-to tell you the truth-ar'n't you really well out of it? He's a miserable little upstarthe'd have made a wretched husband for so superior a girl as Miss Quirk." "Ah-ay! ay! She is a good girl, Gammon-there you're right; would have made the best of wives my eyes, (between ourselves!) how that'll go to the jury! Gad, I fancy I see 'em-perhaps all of 'em daughters of their own."

"Looking at the thing calmly, Mr Quirk," said Gammon gravely-apprehensive of Mr Quirk's carrying too far so very absurd an affair-"where's the evidence of the promise? Because, you know, there's certainly something depends on that-eh?"

"Evidence? Deuce take you, Gammon! where are your wits? Evi dence? Lots-lots of it! A'n't there I-her father? A'n't I a competent witness? Wait and see old Caleb Quirk get into the box. I'll settle his hash in half a minute."

"Yes-if you're believed, perhaps." "Believe be -! Who's to be believed, if her own father isn't?" "Why, you may be too much swayed by your feelings!"

"Feelings be -I It's past all

that; he has none-so he must pay, for he has cash! He ought to be made an example of!"

"Still, to come to the point, Mr Quirk, I vow it quite teases me-this matter of the evidence"

"Evidence? Why, Lord bless my soul, Gammon," quoth Quirk testily, "haven't you had your eyes and ears open all this while? Gad, what a crack witness you'd make! A man of your your intellect-serve a friend at a pinch-and in a matter about his daughter? Ah, how often you've seen 'em together-walking, talking, laughing, dancing, riding-writ in her album-made her presents, and she him. Evidence? Oceans of it, and to spare! Secure Subtle-and I wouldn't take £5000 for my verdict!"

66

"Why, you see, Mr Quirk," said Gammon, very seriously. "though I've striven my utmost these six months to bring it about, the artful little scamp has never given me the least thing that I could lay hold of, and swear to." Oh, you'll recollect enough, in due time, friend Gammon, if you'll only turn your attention to it; and if you'll bear in mind it's life and death to my poor girl. Oh Lord! I must get my sister to break it to her, and I'll send sealed instructions to Mr Weasel, shall we, say? or Lynx? ay, Lynx; for he'll then have to fight for his own pleadings; and can't turn round at the trial and say, this is not right,' and that's wrong,' and, why didn't you have such and such evidence? Lynx is the man; and I'll lay the venue in Yorkshire, for Titmouse is devilish disliked down there; and a special jury will be only too glad to give him a desperate slap in the chops! We'll lay the damages at twenty thousand pounds! Ab, ha! I'll teach the young villain to break the hearts of an old man and his daughter. But, egad," he pulled out his watch," half-past two; and Nicky Crowbar sure to be put up at three! By Jove! it won't do to be out of the way; he's head of the gang, and they always come down very li beral when they're in trouble. Snap! Amminadab! hollo! who's there? Drat them all, why don't they speak ?” The old gentleman was soon, however, attended to.

"Are they here?" he enquired as Mr Amminadab entered.

"Yes sir, all three; and the coach is at the door, too. Nicky Crowbar's to be up at three, sir”

"I see-I know-I'm ready," re